Ink
by crystallized lace
Summary: THAT'S when I lost it. I swirled around, my hair whipping my cheek, and hissed, “What!” in a voice that could kill even the most innocent of creatures. Not one way in hell was he getting away unscathed.
1. Chapter 1

"What!" I hissed, with my eyes straight ahead.

_POKE!_

Dang it! That actually _hurt_! Geez, what was this guy's problem?

_POKE!_

A sharp point was jabbed into my back. I hissed in annoyance. Slowly, ever so slowly, I turned around and gave the guy a death glare that could make even the corpses in graves flip over 350 degrees.

"Miss Evans, is something wrong?" My eyes snapped on McGonagall's face.

"No professor," a pause, and then, attempting a puppy dog face, "Should there be?" I must have let the last part slip into a sarcastic sneer because she had swooped down on me in a matter of seconds and demanded in a deadly quiet voice, "Are you _sure_?"

_Man, this woman is batty, 'What got stuck up her arse!"_

No, I did not just let that last part out loud about her arse being shoved up with something!

Yep, you guessed it, unfortunately, and apparently, I _did_ say it out loud.

Well, if she had swooped down on me before she had practically landed on me this time (A/K: that sounds somewhat nasty…Eww!) and she didn't miss her target either. Dang. And to think, I was getting so close to getting a perfect score in this class!

In that little millimeter of a second, where I just couldn't keep my mouth shut, my score went completely down the drain. I mentally shrugged, _Oh well, could be worse…_

"Detention, 8 'o' clock, tonight," with those words, she left me to my doom, plus making me add someone new to my Kill-before-I-leave-Hogwarts list, Even though this list is newly created, I have a feeling I'll be adding to it soon. Like the quill-stabber-in-the-back guy.

Speaking of which, I think killing him after class sounded the best. I gave an evil smirk. He'd die then. I cackled inwardly, I'd have to save the actual mad cackle for when I was locked up in the bathroom, taking a shower.

_POKE!_

_That's_ when I lost it. I swirled around, my hair whipping my cheek, and hissed, "**_What_**!" in a voice that could kill even the most innocent of creatures. And, if McGonagall hadn't been talking about transfiguring kittens into teacups, my voice would have been as loud as an elephant being shot by a machine gun in one side and being stabbed in the other side, while its eyes were picked out by a vulture.

He shrugged, then asked in an overly-casual tone, "Have an extra quill I can borrow?" He held up a quill with the tip completely dull and stained with dry ink.

Then I did something even Peeves would be proud of, I turned around, stared incredulously for a split second, then grabbed my mood-changing ink, screwed the top off at record speed, and then poured the scarlet ink that was now changing to a deep velvety blue onto his mop-like, black hair and face.

One thing was for sure, shock was definitely apparent on his face.

I couldn't help myself, I giggled. It was just too hilarious. I mean, seriously, his face looked like a deer caught in the headlights and small drips of sapphire ink splattered onto the floor and turned a neutral transparent clear color. His mouth hung open so big that it all but hit the floor and his hazel eyes shone big as saucers.

I laughed a little louder. Soon, faster then I thought, the room was filled in a foreboding silence as I stopped laughing, realizing I was the only one to have laughed. Then someone, I'm not sure who, started the nervous rumble of a chuckle. In next to no time, everyone else was laughing, but not quite as hard as I had done so before, it was morel like an edgy, anxious giggle that everyone seemed to share. After all, some people considered this guy as one of the more popular person in this school. Sadly, whether or not he actually was popular, I didn't even have the faintest clue of his name.

Then I turned around, _definitely _not a good idea.

"Eva—", before McGonagall could finish saying my nam, I blurted out some dumb excuse about stomach pains or female 'problems', I'm not sure, but whatever it was, it was a fib. I then hurriedly grabbed my stuff and ran past the taken aback Professor McGonagall and out the door. I kept up a fast pace until I was only half a mile from the Hospital Wing. _Whew! Never again would I be able to pull do something like **that** off again…_


	2. No Use Crying Over Spilt Ink

**_A/N:_** Oh my!I never thoughtI was going to ever get to the second chapter, butI have... and it's all rubber ducky 9's fault! In fact, this chapter is dedicated to her! I hope she reads this chapter and tears up THANK YOU for being so AWESOME and supportive even though this fic is complete crap!

_**Disclaimer**_: This is obviously not JKR's (hello, you wouldn't even see this amateur-writer on any bookcover sigh.) Oh, and, Miller Cough Ink _is_ one of the producers of Smallville and other t.v. shows... I'm just borrowing their name for the moment. sheepish smile

Chapter Two:** No Use Crying Over Spilt Ink**

I had found out shortly after McGonagall's lesson that day that the quill-jabber had a name and it was Potter. Well, actually, that's his surname (honestly, did you really think his parents named him that? No matter how corrupt they were to bring their son up in the art of back-poking, I don't think they'd go as far as giving him such a lame name.) Truthfully, his actual name was James Potter, but I so frequently used Potter that it had started to seem like his real name.

Well, it turns out that Potter has got this little posse and, get this, they've got a _name_! It's this superbly dumb idea, and, honestly, I'm sorely tempted to find out who made it up and tell them how _lame_ it really is. They call themselves The Marauders, which brings to mind, them dressed as pirates capering around gallantly fighting evil soldiers attempting to protect a damsel-in-distress. In fact, that sounds close to a certain fantasy of mine…

Wait, ew! I did _not _just suggest that it could be a veritable possibility that Potter and his lame clique could relate to one of my fantasies in a repulsive sort of ay. Oh, how gross!

Well, not only has Potter formed a little, lame group, but he's also become a figurehead, along with Sirius Black, to a bunch of ditzy, mostly-blonde fan girls. Merlin, I swear I've seen a girl swoon once when Black pecked her on the cheek and I've even seen (for this, my eyes have forever been tainted) at a Quidditch match, when celebrating our victory, a girl go up to Potter, hug him, and then grope his arse! Oh, how disturbing _that_ was! After that, I ended up leaning over a toilet for half an hour, puking.

Right now, I'm at Hogsmeade in Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, buying new ink.

Due to certain circumstances, I seem to be on my last bottle of ink, and that happens to be plain black, much like someone's messy hair, come to think of it. Well, I've always hated black ink, and so I must pick out some ink that does _not_ remind me of anyone's hair color.

How about green? No one's got green hair, well other than punks…and that first year I saw on the Hogwart's Express. And, well, green rather goes well with my eyes (as does black, come to think of it…)

Oh my word, I can't believe I'm discussing what color of ink I'll buy as if it's a piece of clothing. What has the world come to?

Really, Scrivenshaft's doesn't even have that great of a variety of inks. Now that I look, they don't even _have_ green. Or mood-changing. All they really have is black, blue and red. How dull. I think I'll go to Miller Cough's Ink Shop. That is, right after I buy this green and gold quill.

888

After paying ten Sickles and three Knuts for that quill, I'm now on my way to Miller Cough's Ink Shop. It's actually a very beautiful day. There's not a cloud in the sky, the sun's shining... Oh wait, scratch that.

I see Potter coming my way.

Ooh, where's a good hiding place when you need one? Well, there's an alleyway right there, maybe if I squeeze in he won't notice—

"What're you doing, Evans?" Crap. Crap, crap, crap. Oh well, at least I tried.

Jeez, he's got an _enormous_ smirk on. I'm _so_ wiping it off.

"Right now? Trying to get away from you. Right before? _Trying_ to find some nice _ink_. Preferably, the kind that's not on your face," I said the last part with emphasis as if it were his fault that I didn't have any ink left, even though it was his fault only half-way. (Hey! He _did_ provoke me, did he not? Yeah, that's what I thought.)

"Pity you didn't have any decent ink," Potter said in mock-concern.

Thinking of a very off-the-subject observation, I started out, "You know, I've never realized this before, but you and Malfoy have a lot in common."

I gave a short pause, then, "You are both _so_ cocky and self-assured that you _are_ the best. You walk with such a confidence in your step that you're _so_ certain everyone should grovel at your feet. If anyone doesn't, you mock them with huge attacks of sarcasm and tell them all their weaknesses and how dorky, or geeky, or even how _ugly_ they are!" At this, I grimaced, remembering once how Potter had told me how disgusting I was and how much I revolted him with my "homely red hair and ugly, brown freckles" and my "pale, almost blue-ish skin".

"Oh, here's a plus: you both seem to annoy the _hell_ out of me!" I stopped catched my breath and stared at him as If he were the biggest piece of dirt mixed up with every single disgusting little thing all rolled up in one.

"Merlin, you're both so—so conceited!"

Potter stared at me with a mixture of shock and confusion, and then his face hardened.

His next words came out fast and full of contempt, "Do I look like a Deatheater? Do you really think that I'd be as cold-blooded as to kill millions of innocent people? To kill men, woman, and even _children_! Evans, even I'm no that," Here, he stopped, looking utterly disgusted and revolted, "—that, that _sick_!"

With that, he turned on his heel and walked away , indignant from my sadistic comparison.

I swear, I must've eaten something extremely weird earlier because I think I'm feeling kind of guilty. Oh Merlin, I'm going to have that gnawing little feeling in the pit of my stomach for the rest of the day.

Someone must hate me up there. I looked up hatefully at the sky

888

after my little detour to Miller Cough's Ink Shop (aka my "chat" with Potter), I was finally in the actual shop, in front of shelves of varying inks.

Extensive bottles of ink that were natural lie-detectors lined the top-most shelves. From color-alternating inks to Troubling Trips inks (which fixed up all grammatical mistakes and sometimes even showed you a thesaurus-type method of finding other words to substitute another.).

I picked up the last bottle of mood-changing ink and looked at the back label and scanned the listing of colors that that mood represented. I noticed that red meant angered, vexed, or annoyed. I nodded my head at that.

Then I saw that deep blue meant attraction or romantic. A flashback from that fateful day appeared in my mind _'I_ _poured the scarlet ink that was now changing to a deep velvety blue onto his mop-like, black hair and face_' and then, '_small drips of sapphire ink splattered onto the floor and turned a neutral transparent clear color'. _

The bottles dropped from my hand and shattered on the floor, splattering ink across the white-washed marble.

Great, now I have a mad and attracted Potter. What next?

A/N: I'm in _dire_ need of ideas for this fic because it's almost extinct and I'm not even sure if I should continue it... Please tell me...! Oh, if you review, it's more likely there'll be another chapter, so think about that, will you? PLEASE REVIEW!


	3. A With Quidditch Notes

**_A/N:_** Hey! hello peoples! well, here's the 3rd chapter!

Chapter 3

A Plan with Quidditch Notes

Well, the store manager ended up kicking me out, due to the broken bottle of ink. I also had to pay for it, even though all you need to do was utter a simple _repairo _and a _scourigo _to clean it.

Suddenly, mood-changing ink was my best friend. Well, considering I've never had that great of a friend, no less a _best_ friend, that's _really_ not saying a lot. Come to think of it, why _don't_ I have a friend? I mean, seriously, you'd think I'd have one, too. Because of my sarcasm and "humor", you'd think that at least somebody would think I'm okay.

Maybe one of the reasons I don't have one is because practically ever y girl in my dorm is obsessed with guys and are only interested in the latest trends and the guys are pretty much in love with Quidditch, but that's not an entirely bad thing, considering quidditch okay, even though I can't join the team or play it because the only sport that I _am_ good at is Fooz Ball. Really, is that even a sport? I doubt it.

Maybe I _am_ the only sane person in this world left. Or, maybe, it's the other way around and I'm _in_sane not to be obsessed with guys and fashion or quidditch.

Anyhow, I just got terribly off subject. The reason that mood-changing ink is now my best friend is because now I can, when confused by someone's actions, pour a bottle of ink on their head. How pathetic does that sound? I feel like such a loser. Oh yeah, just because that's happened _once _it's _definitely_ going to happen everyday. Note the sarcasm.

Here I am, in this old, grungy tavern. Even the sign on the door outside that stated with a very gory and bloody image of a slaughtered pig's head with its mouth still clamped over an apple was covered in impossible filth.

Inside the Hog's Head (or so it's called), were three big, round tables in the middle of the room that were covered in crumbs and even some blotches of mold (GROSS!) and there was a small table nestled in cobwebs and dust in the corner (where I am.)

Behind the sidebar sat a man in his late twenties dressed in clothes so filthy and ratty they must've been from a century or two ago. I leaned out of my chair, trying to see if his clothes showed any design and fell out of my chair. The wooden chair against the floor made a clanking sound as it hit. His clothes were so dirty you couldn't even tell what they were.

He sat on a stool, looking around suspiciously (looking at me in particular), and polishing spoons that must've, at one point, been silver, but were now a blackish green. I wondered vaguely if they had been done the toilet at one time.

I guess the only reason I'm here and not at the Three Broomsticks is because was so I could get away from all possible places Potter could be. Yes, it's a bit ridiculous and all, but Potter, because I know he _likes_ me (Ergh…. I still shudder at that) which doesn't reassure me at _all_, could make a _move_ on me. Ergh! I just, do _not _want tohappen to bump in on him at any chance possible. Well, if I'm lucky, I've already scared him off with the whole Malfoy analogy thing.

Omigosh, I think that friggon' ugly bartender is checking me out! Oh, eh, ew. Gross…. I feel so disturbed. _What _is he doing? Merlin, he's walking towards me with a bent spoon (why do they even _need _spoons in a pub?) in his hand and a wide grin that is completely full of yellow-brown teeth. Disgusting. Gosh, he's still coming. Hastily, I throw a sickle on the filthy table for my equally dirty butterbeer and barrel past the still-grinning bartender to the now-welcoming door.

Sunlight flooded the room for a split-second as I rush through the door. It's still sunny and beautiful, but it seems to have lost it's shine, so to speak, because of Potter and some new revelations. At that, I smirked. Really, I could go on forever.

I started walking towards the Shrieking Shack. Honestly, that place made no sense, even in the Wizarding World. I don't think it's very likely that tons of ghosts and ghouls joined a group together and happened to form a shrieking band. Huh.

You know, it would be really fun (and evil) if I did all the things Potter would find attractive and all that crap. Or, in short, turn him on and reject him. Heh-heh-heh. Seeing that no one's around, I'm going to cackle very manically right now. With that thought, I throw my head backwards and let out a high-pitched _Heeh-heeh-heeh_!

That felt good. Very, very good.

Now, done with my evil laugh, I skip, frolicking down the lane. What an interesting day. Hmm…

888

That entire week I planned out ideas and thought up things Potter was obsessed with. So far, the list consisted of three things: Quidditch, pranking, and girls. In that order, too.

Deciding to go in order, I checked out _Quidditch Through the Ages _and_ Quidditch for Dummies. _I also got a year's worth of _Quidditch Exclusive_, _Broomcare_, and _Quidditch Girls. _

Suddenly, I was visiting practice matches and watching the drills and maneuvers they used. I found myself writing out notes and forming out different and better dips and slides that were faster and trickier. But, because I didn't know how to fly, I couldn't try these new ideas out. So, that was when I decided I needed to learn to fly.

After a practice match one night, I confronted Kate Woods (A/N: No relation to either Katie Bell or Oliver Wood.), the keeper for our Gryffindor team. I told her I had a deal to offer.

"Who the hell are you?" was her response.

"Lily Evans, head freak of Hogwarts, thank you very much," was my answer.

"Anyways, listen, if you teach me how to fly, I'll help you dump Amos and get Sirius."

She gasped and looked at me weirdly, "How did you--?" I answered quickly, "Being a wallflower somewhat entitles you to listen to other person's conversations and read people's faces and such."

Woods looked at me blankly, "Right, whatever," she said semi-preppy.

I always knew she was kind of thick. I sighed.

"That means I'm smart," I said slowly and coherently as I she were a two-year old and I was her older sister.

"Well," she said snottily, "How are you gonna get _Sirius _to _date_ me?"

"Well, it's simple, really…" and so I explained my fool-proof plan (which had a loophole, but she didn't need to know that Black would only date her for the span of seven days.)

"Well, then, let's get started," Woods said rubbing her manicured hands together menacingly.

I spoke a hesitant okay and we made our way to the Quidditch Supply Room, right behind the locker rooms. Old, donated brooms and worn, beaten-up quaffles and bludgers sat in dank corners of the room. Woods walked over to a shelf, grabbed one of the newer brooms and tossed it to me. I caught it reflexively with one hand. Her eyebrows rose.

"Go to your dorm and get some sportier clothes on. You don't want to be ruining your robes with sweat marks. I'll wait for you down on the pitch."

So I went upstairs and got on a tank top and some jean shorts and we soon got to work. We started out with the basics, but it turned out that I was a natural flyer. Which was weird, considering I'm muggle-born.

Begrudgingly, Woods told me that there was soon going to be an open spot for seeker, so I'd better try out. At my confused look, she said, "Anna Toln is transferring to an American Wizarding World high school."

Even though I'd never tried it before, I found that I absolutely loved to fly, I t was fun and exhilarating, it pumped me up. It was nothing like those muggle sports, by far, and much more fun. Funny thing, though, there weren't any cheerleaders. Not that I wsa complaining.

About that seeker position, I think I might try out. Goodness knows what could happen, but, hey, that's what the fun of it was! Wit that thought, I dipped down in a spectacular dive, hurtling towards the ground and pulled up a split-second before reaching it.

A/N: Hello persons! If you have any **ideas,** 'cuz i'm making this up as i go along and i really need help, for this fic, leave it in a review . REQUEST FOR A **BETA! **i really need one and if you would like to become my beta, tell me! oh, and, i need help in the plan that lily has for getting sirius to date kate woods.. got any ideas?


	4. Passion In Charms

_**A/N:**_ Well, i got really irritated at my newly-gotten-beta because she never replied to my email (THREE DAYS! How can you not look at your email in three _friggon'_ days?) and so i got super mad and wrote another email, saying that i wasn't waiting any more for her and that she could still send the corrected peice... BUT! i looked over this chapter three times so if it has any mistakes i shall blame rubby ducker 9 compltely. i dedicate this chapter to **ms. james potter.** THANK YOU for your reviews, although short. oh, and i like your new fic **Hug, **very cute, but pretty sad... you should make it an entire story how oliver chases after her and everything... that fic remeinded me a little bit of smallville...anyways, enough of my ranting! here is THE NEXT CHAPTER!

Chapter Four: Passion in Charms

I was in Flitwick's class right now and I was bored as hell. I didn't like schoolwork (even though I was pretty good in Charms) and so, instead of practicing the Passion Charm (which made the victim fall in love with deep passion to the castor which, at most, could last for more than a day to only a couple of minutes), I was sketching out different strategies for quidditch and figuring out varying tactics to use in certain backdrops.

You know, I think I've become obsessed with quidditch. Oh no, Merlin help me, I'm becoming a fanatic! Great, now all the boys will fall at my feet! At this point, I would like to thank all my friends…. But the reality of it is, I don't have any. Anyways, as I tear up talking about my undying, fanatical love for quidditch, I must admit, I think I'm not only in love with quidditch, but…

You didn't really think there was someone or something else, did you? Eh-heh…heh.

Anyhow, I suppose there _are_ worse things than being obsessed with quidditch. Like being a mad fan girl.

Did you know what's really sickening? Potter's got both girls _and_ guys tying to get a date with him (and snog him/her.) It revolts me. Under my breath, I muttered some obscene language, heartily taking on Potter's name with a vengeful gusto.

Being ultimately bored after a while of uttering profanities about Potter, I ripped off a piece of my parchment and decided to create a little mayhem. Besides, it would go well with my plan to get Black and Woods together for a while.

I wrote down a love note to Black in an elaborately big and curly handwriting signed _Kate Woods. _With my wand, I tapped the folded parchment piece and watched as it zoomed haphazardly around the room, zigzagging in no particular pattern so it would show no trace of its original sender (aka me).

I watched amusedly as it tapped Woods on the shoulder and darted through some students performing the Passion Charm on each other and then murmuring cheesy love poems as the spell hit them. The innocent piece of parchment finally shot Black in the head, which made him flinch terribly and turn around in circles, looking remotely like a dumb blonde. I snorted at that, imagining Black in a very tiny miniskirt and a quite short halter top with stiletto heels on as long, blonde hair flowed to a rather erotic imaginary beat. I shuddered, hoping against all odds that he wasn't gay.

Looking up from my rather nauseating thoughts, I saw Black finished reading the note, raising his eyebrows suggestively at a rather puzzled Woods.

I smirked at my handiwork, but then noticed a bemused Potter staring ironically at me. I sent him a flirtatious smile and a wink but, instead of looking at me like a stupid oaf would; he looked weirdly at me like I was some sort of odd and unnatural specimen that even a scientist would be revolted to have.

I acted as if nothing had happened and turned back to my writing. But instead of drawing out of another strategy, I found myself overwhelmed with very _un_-platonic thoughts of James. _'Who's James?'_ my subconscious yelled at me, but I took no heed of my dumbly-asked question and daydreamed for a split second about James. What I daydreamed about there included James in a very wet shirt, and me in a skimpy bikini along with lot of lemonade on a _very_ hot day. And that is all I shall say in the matter.

My legs walked over to the corner of the room where James was so I could confess my newly-revealed love for him, though it felt oddly like I was being possessed at that moment.

I swung my hips as I walked towards him and noticed that a couple of guys happened to check me out. '_Whoa…That's a first.'_ As I made my way to him I dully noted that he had his wand out and was smirking profusely, but I didn't pay any regards to it and continued walking towards him. I only stopped until I was a foot away from his face then straddled him to his chair with my legs. He no longer wore a smirk, but a round _'O'_ shaped his mouth.

His eyes were round with shock and his breath hitched as I wrapped my arms around his neck seductively, and whispered teasingly, "_I know you like me_."

He stared at me with huge eyes, stunned. When he dropped his wand I suddenly pulled out of my possessed stupor and, aware of the close proximity to him, I wondered for one wild moment whether I was in another one of my fantasized dreams or not. Then, all too aware of what had happened, I asked loudly, "What the hell was _that_!" Everyone in the room, if they weren't _already _staring at us, turned and looked. Where _was _Professor Flitwick?

Eyeing his wand, I spoke out harshly, "You used the Passion Charm on me! You—you are the _biggest _git in the _world!" _I shook my head at him and, noticed that I really needed to get off him before I did something I would regret. Something I would _really_ regret. And that wouldn't be hurting him…Quite the opposite, that is.

He recovered from his dazed reverie and looked into my eyes with eyes that glimmered with something that freaked me out totally and was _definitely_ not hate.

"Revenge is sweet." He said it so absently though, that I think his mind was barely on our conversation, but instead on who was on his lap. I noticed, alarmed, that my skirt had hitched up so much that the hem was up mid-thigh.

Pretending to look disgusted, I got off Potter's lap hastily and barked at the huge crowd of students watching, "Back to work, _now!_"

I walked swiftly towards my desk, ignoring the fifty-one (or more pairs) of eyes watching me and into my desk with an '_oomph'_ and took out some mood-changing ink. I dipped my quill in the bottle and started writing the essay for Transfiguration on Vanishing Spells and Three Possible Uses for Them. I was very distracted and all I wrote was the definition of a Vanishing Spell and for the uses scratched down some pathetic ideas like '_easy way to hide yourself from Filch when past-curfew'_.

I glanced up quickly from my paper and saw a couple of girls from my dormitory looking at me with gawky faces and opening and closing their mouths like fishies and a few more gossiping about me, looking astonished. Black clapped Potter over the back, talking animatedly while Lupin watched on amused as Potter was in stunned silence, looking glassy-eyed at the floor with his mouth slightly parted open, Pettigrew looked up at Potter admirably and nodding his head at Black's words every once and a while. I scoffed and turned back to my essay.

That class seemed to last forever and when it ended I felt like screaming, "I'm free! I'm free!" like a jail breaker. Well, that is, until I saw Malfoy.

I didn't even notice him until he stepped out of a shadowed crook in the wall and sneered, "So, Evans, been slut-ing around with Potter, have you?"

"What? Are you _jealous?_" I jeered back, a tinge of anger flushing my cheeks. Aim for the prey.

"Well… I do have time," I looked at my wrist as if there were a watch on it, "during Friday night…Maybe, if you're lucky, you and I can do some cuddling," I said sarcastically.

"Evans, don't tempt me," He said looking bored.

"Maybe I'll even give you a _kiss!"_ I said, feigning animation. Tease the target.

Ignoring my last comment, he said, "So, how was it, getting so close to Potter?" Merlin, is he gay! He wants to know how that _felt _with Potter. Ergh, gross, maybe he is. "Oh, wait. _You _kissed _him._ I suppose that makes more sense, now, doesn't it? You liking Potter, you've always fallen for the pretty boys," at this, he rolled his eyes.

Hey, I did _not _kiss himBesides, I do _not _fall for pretty boys. Potter is _so_ not one of those pretty, preppy boys, anyways.

Now I was seriously getting annoyed, "Well, then, at least it _is_ better than falling for a maniacal deatheater, who, thus recently, has been found gay."

I could see I had struck a nerve because he said stiffly, "Evans, don't talk about what you don't know."

"Which parts do I not know enough about? Is it about you being gay? Because it sure makes a lot of sense, you've never gone out with a girl or even checked one _out_, so, maybe, you've been secretly going out with some lucky guy. Is it Crabbe, even though he's not that great-looking, or even _normal_-looking, but then you've always had a _queer_ taste…?" I smirked. The prey was wounded. I had used my claws.

"Or is it about you being a deatheater, because everyone one in the whole, entire _friggon'_ school knows about that! And, besides, I've seen you muttering to yourself, practicing your little dark spells," I said cruelly, but not feeling a thing, because, really, it was nauseating and, just, _sick _

And, now, the prey was bleeding, but it was mad at me. And it was about to strike back.

Malfoy had whipped out his wand way before I had even finished my thoughts. He muttered a spell that was clearly not legal, judging by the dark misted purple smoke emitting from the tip of his wand.

Once the mist reached me I started to gag violently. The more it engulfed me, the closer I felt like I would choke to death. At some point, I had fallen to the floor, on my knees, clutching my neck. In the next moment, I was curled up on the cold, biting, stone floor and tears streamed down my face as the last breaths of air were sucked out of me.

In the background, I heard someone that sounded like Potter, yelling angrily at Malfoy and then I heard the pounding steps of someone running away. As I drew my last breath, I saw Potter hovering over me worried as he picked me up. My last conscious thought before I passed out was that it felt kind of nice, despite the fact that I was suffocating, to the point of death.

**_A/n:_** well, replies to my reviewers, sorry i haven't done it in other chapters but i forgot! anyways, last chapter there were barely any reviews!

**amarvi**: thanks anyways... but it still would've been useful. thanks for reviewing! I LOVE YOU:.WORSHIPS FEET.:

**cosmopolitan:** first off, i LOVE your name! great one! you _luuuurrrrvvvveeeee_ my story? awwww... :.tears drop down face as she cluthces her heart as if she's seen a chick flick.: THANK YOOU SOOOOO much for reviewing!

ANNNNDDDD...

**rubber ducky 9: **i have a forgiving heart! please, don't hate me for dissing you in my first auther's note :.points upwards.: thank you. and, if you still have that mcuh patience, you are a made-miracle! thanks for reviewing... i might still use your idea, dunno. :.shrug.:


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: _Hello...! this chapter is really the least humorous (but that's because i've been feeling very depressed lately, due to my family going on this trip to California in the middle of June and other, much more personal reasons, which i will not talk about because, mostly, it's not your bussiness. Yes i realize i just sounded like a total prat, but whatever.) Sorry about this chapter, and i really do need some ideas for more funnier chapters...bleh. Well, once again, i dedicate this chapter to **rubber ducky 9**, my wonderful beta! And, here, i present to you chapter 5!

Chapter 5: Black Vapor

Instead of either waking up in heaven or on a hospital bed, I opened up my eyes and found myself in the boys' dormitory on someone's bed. I wondered vaguely if I had drank a _little _too much earlier that afternoon and had gone a _bit_ too far with some random boy (I sincerely hoped it wasn't Potter), but then I remembered what had really happened, how Malfoy had gotten mad at me and cursed me with some dark arts spell. As I sat up my ribs rubbed together painfully, my throat was starched and dehydrated.

I hacked out a dry cough and, instead of hurting my throat more by talking, looked around and saw piles of clothes in random, miscellaneous stacks around the room (which, really, wasn't that different from my own room.) Chocolate wrappers littered both the floor and nightstands alike. A few scarves and hats were scattered on pillows, bedposts, and closet doors.

Unlike most girls, this mess did not appall me nor did I think it was disgusting. This was mostly because I was used to such messes as these (and worse) mostly because I was the one _making_ trashy mess like this all the time. It was one of the reasons why I was hardly ever in my own dorm (suitably, to being continually kicked out so the girls who were neat-freaks could clean the crap up.)

I looked at the nightstand next to the bed I occupied and saw a picture of Potter and Black. In it, they were in their third year; just starting to get their dashing looks that they had now. In the picture, Potter still had messy hair, but it looked goofy and mildly like he wore a too-huge-for-his-head wig. His glasses made it all the worse though because they practically illuminated his face, bringing out his eyes and making him look scarily like Sybil Trelawney, a girl a couple of years above them in Ravenclaw, who wore a gypsy-like costume every day.

Black, of course, had black hair falling in his eyes in a devilish way and his eyes sparkled with mischief. He almost looked cute, if it were not for the impish look on his face as he discreetly tapped Potter on the head and laughed as he became green-haired and red-eyed.

Well, the good thing about that picture is that I now know that it isn't some random guy that tried to do something with me, but _Potter_ or _Black_! Great, my day has just been getting better _and_ _better_!

I heard the dorm's door open and close and voices filling the room. I quickly closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep.

"So, Moony how does that work again? Besides the Super Sonic Spell, what else could we add? Merlin, I wish James were here, but he's stuck up in that measly old library looking up DADA stuff, he could _definitely_ help—," Black's voice cut through the silence, chattering on until he saw me sleeping there.

Suddenly, he exclaimed, "_Dang_, Prongs is _good!_ How the hell was he able to get _her_ in _his _bed?"

I peeked through my half-closed eyelids and saw Black shaking his head bewilderingly, "Even though she showed some very obvious signs of attraction to him earlier in Charms, I didn't think she was _that_ hot for him." Great, it turns out I _am_ in Potter's bed. How lucky can I be?

He whistled low and muttered to himself, "I have _got_ to learn that trick!" Ewh! He is _way_ too perverted for his own good.

The door opened once more and Potter walked in, carrying a stack of books (McGonagall would be _so_ proud!) When he saw me, he asked, baffled, "How can she _still_ be sleeping?"

Black looked over towards Potter and stared incredulously, "Prongs, you have a _single_ girl in your bed and all you ask is why she isn't _awake_! Mate, you have some _serious_ issues to sort out." He shook his head and looked down sadly, muttering about how he had not taught him well enough.

Potter looked over at him and stared, "Padfoot, dude, you are _so_ perverted! After Charms I found her practically passing out in a hallway with Malfoy, suffocating. This purple smoke was all around her; it looked like some sort of spell or something. Malfoy must've gotten really mad at her. She was out cold when I finally got to her, after getting Malfoy away, so I brought her here. Pomfrey, for all the medical stuff she knows, isn't going to be able to find out what's wrong with Evans. That curse was strong and some of the Easingnee's Sore Throat Remedy potion (that I stole from the hospital wing's cupboard) didn't do anything. I doubt we have very long before we find out what's wrong with her and to fix it."

Forgetting about pretending to be asleep, I sat up in bed and rasped out a "_What_!" They all stared at me surprised, Then potter said, continuing on with his story, "That's why I've been in the library looking for books that tell what's wrong with her or something to what's wrong with her and how to stop it."

"Well, then, let's get to work!" Black hopped over and grabbed the books, dumping them on Potter's nightstand and grabbing one himself to read. His was, laughingly so, titled _Dark Art Defense for Dummies. _Shrugging, Lupin and Pettigrew followed and both walked to their beds or the floor to start reading. Potter snatched one titled _Dark Arts: a Century of Evil _and sat down next to me. Smiling, I reached over him and took one called _Spells, Curses, and Jinxes to Befuddle the Mind. _

We read like that for hours and only stopping to command Pettigrew to go to the kitchens, with requests of apple dumplings, chocolate chip biscuits, and lots of Grimrim soda. By the time it was six, we had only found out that house elves made their own stash of apple dumplings, hidden from view. Or so we had theorized.

We had finished all the books Potter had gotten and, depressingly, we were out of resources.

I sighed and grabbed an old quill that looked vaguely familiar and a crumpled piece of parchment from Potter's nightstand. I titled the parchment _Will and Testament. _Black and Lupin looked over at me weirdly, staring while Potter tried reading over my shoulder. After a few minutes of thinking and then realizing that I neither had nothing to give precious or even remotely useful nor any friends to give anything to. Oh phoo.

I sighed and slammed the quill back on the nightstand (when I realized it was the one Potter had shown to me in McGonagall's class, the one he had poked me in the back repeatedly)crumpled the paper up moiré and threw it angrily, where it incidentally hit Black on the head and rebounded. I muttered sheepishly_ 'sorry'_ and crossed my arms angrily. Potter nudged me and got up saying, in a heroic poise (one arm on his hip the other pointing upwards) and I could just imagine a cape flowing behind him, "Come, my friends (and enemy), we must move _forwards_!" and he gestured out the door, saying, "There are more books in the library! _Onwards_ we go!"

And he pulled me up and tried carrying me bridal-style (which, by the way, did not work, but instead gave me an overwhelming headache when he accidentally dropped me) out the door. I wondered vaguely to myself why he was doing this (being nice to me and helping me find out what was wrong, not carrying and dropping me) and found that I would've done something of the same nature for him, despite my not-so-likeable attitude towards him.

888

Black and Pettigrew picked out books from shelves as Lupin, Potter and I read them. Oddly, Lupin had a problem with reading around other people and so he went off to one corner while Potter and I sat next to each other at a table, reading separately from our books.

"Ooh, look here," I said, pointing at a paragraph and reading it out loud, "_These spells and curses are distinguished as either a Coughing (_A/N: pun slightly intended) _Spell, a Gagging Xelfer, or a Ygrella Spell. These spells are often mistaken for symptoms of a cold or other type of common sickness and not taken very seriously. Coughing spells do not last long, up to five minutes, possibly ten, _("Well, that rules that one out.") _and causes an itchy, sore throat afterwards. _

"_Coughing Spells, hence their name, make you cough dramatically…_blah…blah...blah…There it just yaks on about what it causes and then it talks about ygrella curses (they swell up your throat and give you hives.) Here it is, it talks about the Gagging Xelfer. '_The gagging xelfer is a dark (and very illegal) curse that causes the victim to choke uncontrollably for ten minutes, more or less, then to fall unconscious. This allows the vapor of the curse to travel down the victim's lungs and settle in the victim's body and, per se, "digest" (it does not go through one's bowels and out the other end. It just settles in the stomach region.) _

"_After a while, the victim's body gets use to the curse. Once it does, it slowly creeps back up and gnaws away your breathing time left. It then proceeds to gag the victim once again, but this time it kills you. There are so few and varied counter-curses for this that only a couple of spell books in the **world** have the contents of it in them. From the time the black vapor reaches the victim, the victim has only twenty-four hours left to live." _I looked up at Potter and we stared at each other, wide-eyed. Now I was really scared, getting the overwhelming feeling and concept of what might happen to me was, truth be told, terrifyingly daunting. I might not live.

Potter set a determined face and said simply, "Well, then…We better find one of those spell books." And he looked at me with such unwavering sincerity that I might have possibly just hugged him right there.

_A/N: _Well, hoped you liked it and again, hope you have some ideas because i've found myself at a dead end here... And... HERE ARE THE REPLIES TO REVIEW!

**amarvi**: eh... i now give blessings to your amazing feet (i hope they're clean... :.winks:.) i do hope you have some ideas for me, and, no worries whether they be cursed or not! DANG IT, I NEED IDEAS! .:collapses on shoulder, sobbing.: thank you for reviewing!

**rubber ducky 9**: yes, no need to be riminded of how awfully, terribly _guilty _i feel. i am _so _absolutely sorry! .:sends her one _huge_ hug, almost throwing her to the floor from the impact.: Does, ermm... a Cheering Charm make you feel any better?

**A. Lynn the Poet**: ahh... an idea... indeed... maybe i shall go on with you there... i like it.. cackles, high-giggly

**IrEpEiLyElOwInXueVaNs**: Gosh, that took a while to spell your name... heh heh.. man, you are way too nice! thank you so much for reviewing and being one of the sweetest, kindestreviewers _EVER_! well, lily's attitude _is _a bit unacceptable, but ah well... honestly, i want to give her friends but i fear making a friend for her being either A) a Mary Sue, B) a depressing gothic, C) one of those friends who is infatuated, or has a crush, on Sirius, or D) one of those fake preps. Yep... i have a long way to go... .:smiles.: thanks for being awesome!

WEll, any and _all_ ideas are deeply appreciated! and, even though i haven't used any of you peoples' ideas yet, does _not _mean i won't. oh and, GUESS WHAT? I GOT 20 REVIEWS! How cool is that! .:jumps up and down excitedly.: yeeh!


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note! Read !!!

Omigosh, it's been at LEAST six or seven months since I last wrote a chapter for Ink.

Argh! 

Well…. My dear readers and reviewers….

My story has found itself lost. I've basically lost my interest in this story. Ink will not be finished… although I have written some of, more or less, the next chapter I will not be finishing it unless some major miracle inspirational muse hits me in the eye...That, or some bizarre light bulb from the sky lands on my head and shatters brilliant ideas in my head.

Maybe I'll post the next chapter up but I just got so pissed when my laptop shut down on me when I had added in all these juicy details that wasn't on the original writing and I just haven't gotten the motivation to do more. Bleh.

Well, tell me what you think, if maybe you wanna read the chapter or if you just don't care.

Oh yeah! If it's been sooo utterly long since you've read this story that you have no idea what it's about anymore…Here's a recap: 

_After Malfoy throws some deadly curse at her, James carries Lily to his dorm room and they find some books to research what the curse is. Eventually, they figure out it's this one thing that'll kill her in certain amount of time unless they find what the vary rarely heard of antidote is. __  
_


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